


Those Who Wait

by khooliha



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Gen, family stuff is sometimes about the grooves we wear in each other, nail care, sibling stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:59:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khooliha/pseuds/khooliha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all have our rituals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Who Wait

Ten minutes should be enough. Fifteen, maybe. But twenty was pushing it and they were up to twenty two and Seth Gecko was sick to death of pacing. "Are you fucking done yet?" he called in the direction of the smell, an all too familiar chemical tang. 

"What is the rush?" Ritchie called back, his voice that near-infuriating calm that came with this ritual. "It's not like we're going out to a job. It's just the movies." 

"Excuse me for not wanting to be late to the movie." 

"We're not going to be late. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the theater, less if traffic is light, which it should be at this hour, and anyway they always show at least 10 minutes of commercials and then another 8 to 10 minutes of trailers. Most of which will be old." 

Seth had counted his breaths while Ritchie had been talking, his own calming ritual, unknowingly picked up from his older sibling. "Richard-"

"It's 22 minutes before the movie starts and I need less than five." 

Seth shrugged angrily at the empty couch, the whole empty living room, before deciding that he wanted to check for himself, stalking into the kitchenette. The row of small bottles sat closed on the table, their awful smell already dissipating. Ritchie was at the aged fridge, fingers wrapped carefully around the handle. He emerged with a can of cheap, watery beer (what they and their dollar theater ways could afford) and he held it out without preamble. 

"I don't want it," Seth snapped. 

"If I open this myself I'll have to fix them up, maybe start all the way over, and then we'll really miss the film." 

It was a familiar dance and Seth took the can without protesting any more. As he did so he caught sight of Ritchie's hands. Each nail was carefully painted, even and clean, the color only a shade or two north of hot pink. It worked, just like every tiny bottle of color Ritchie hoarded, no matter how garish they might look unapplied. 

Seth handed the can back and Ritchie sipped from it, grimacing lightly. Someday they'd be able to afford beer that wasn't shit and maybe even a first run movie theater. Taking a longer pull from the can Ritchie considered his work, fingers of his left hand splayed out. He cast a sideways glace at his younger brother but didn't speak. 

"Another success. Do you have to make them all look good Richard?" 

Ritchie smiled down at his work. "It's a gift brother. One you'd have too if you were patient." 

"Speaking of - can we go now?" 

Ritchie took one last gulp, then, putting the can down, gingerly touched each thumb to the corresponding pinky nail. Satisfied, he nodded at Seth and then, clearing his throat, said "Let's get popcorn tonight." 

"What?" 

"I'm feeling generous." 

"And I'm feeling like holding you to your shit. Let's go." 

The Gecko brothers showed up, popcorn in hand, just as the first trailer was starting. It was for a movie that had flopped so hard that it had already come and gone from even the dollar theater. 

***

A few years after that unremarkable day and Ritchie was buzzing, a bug trapped in a jar, except the jar was some fleabag motel room and instead of a bug he was a human who was waiting for the heat to die down. 

It was after a job, _their_ job, and the concept was still new enough that the thrill was almost overwhelming. He had been pacing before, but now he was sitting, just drumming naked fingers against the cheap table top. 

Next time they'd plan better, make a food run before the job so Seth wouldn't have to risk it after. It would always be Seth - he was better at handling people, more charming, and it was his plan, always his plan. It didn't mean that Ritchie liked it. Better next time. It would be better. 

The motel door rattled open and Seth twisted his way inside, still managing to drag the case of soda against the doorframe. Ritchie jolted up, reached to help with the poorly organized bags, but Seth shook him off, merely handing him the now-dinged box. There was already a halo of chill around it, some convenience store brand ginger ale. He crouched to the very mini fridge and worked on cramming in as many cans as it would hold. Already his nerves were lessening, even though Seth was doing nothing more than crinkling his way through the cheap plastic bags. He was here and he was whole and no cops were beating down the door. It was enough. 

"Richard!" Ritchie turned, not rising from his crouch, not sure if he was in trouble or what he even could have done. But Seth was smiling, still sorting through his haul. "I got you something." 

And then, one, two, three, he threw a series of small bottles and Ritchie caught each one and felt them clack together it his hand. He slowly opened his clasped hands, revealing top coat, base coat, and a bottle of blue so electric it practically crackled. He flashed back to over half a lifetime of arguing and needling, over time and the smell. "You shouldn't have, brother." 

"Oh trust me," Seth said with a laugh, "I know." 

The food was put away, the table clear for working, and Seth pushed pass Ritchie to grab two half cold drinks from the fridge before sitting across from his quietly excited brother. Ritchie spared him a quick look before cracking the first bottle open, the familiar smell filling the room. Seth wrinkled his nose but didn't complain, just opened the first drink. Ritchie fell easily into the familiar pattern, covering his nails with calm, almost mathematical strokes. He glanced at his brother again. 

“And when I'm done with mine, I'll do yours," he offered up lightly, only partially joking. 

Seth opened the second can and slid it across the table, into Ritchie's reach. "Whatever you say Richard," and the laugh from before was still in his voice. "Whatever you say.” 


End file.
